The only things Bruno Mars didn’t do last night were serve up concession-stand nachos and direct
traffic on Lane Avenue after the concert.

The performer had just about every other detail covered.

His pipes were strong and soulful.

He handled several decent stints on guitar and drums.

He needed only basic small talk to elicit screams more apt for a Justin Bieber show.

Gold chains, fedora and leopard-print garb? Check.

The petite 27-year-old held a capacity Value City Arena crowd in his palm throughout a 90-minute
show that sliced, diced and threw heaps of old-school flavor on his already-throwback radio
tunes.

A ginormous disco ball spun during the funky
Treasure, with Instagram-hued live video of Mars projected on giant screens — the
collective result making it tough to determine whether it was 2013 or 1973.

Slacker anthem
Billionaire was paired with the classic
Money (That’s What I Want). Knowing the whims of a diverse house, he snuck in song
snippets by Soul for Real, Ghost Town DJ’s and Ginuwine, whose randy jam
Pony Mars once sang at a talent show in high school.

A slowed-down groove and gyrations to match shaded the reggae-lite
Our First Time. Lest moralists object, the upbeat
Marry You quickly followed, with the room singing as one about the pursuit of
matrimony.

The star also offered a few tips for singles. For one thing, it helps to be a musician.

“I’m the dude on the ticket,” said a sweaty, smiling Mars — who, as he must declare on each stop
of the 87-date Moonshine Jungle tour — pitched woo to an unsuspecting audience member.

Joined by a backup vocalist plus a seven-piece band known as the Hooligans, Mars and the
good-natured, Goodwill-chic ensemble often stepped — and snapped — together as one.

It allowed Mars to share in the moment, it didn’t feel rehearsed and it was impossible not to
smile watching the goofball bunch play off each other’s quirks.

Mars, a young Elvis impersonator during his Hawaii childhood, offered shades (and shakes)
reminiscent of the King. He also channeled Michael Jackson and James Brown — the latter during a
fiery, revival-style take on
Runaway Baby.

The brass also added muscle to encore closer
Locked Out of Heaven, which has been rightly compared to something the Police might once
have recorded.

And while the show offered the perfunctory pyrotechnics and strobe lights, it did without the
flying harnesses, catwalks and sprints along the floor aisles that seem almost mandatory for modern
pop stars.

No matter. Mars didn’t need them.

The appeal of pseudo-simplicity was best defined during a quiet moment, when the singer growled
through the ballad
When I Was Your Man — a cutting ballad about regret that he said remains the hardest song
to perform.

It’s powerful on the radio. In concert, bolstered by extra vocal reach and stronger piano
chords, it gave goose bumps.